


Letter from the Isolated

by Namalinette



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 14:31:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20244403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Namalinette/pseuds/Namalinette
Summary: I wonder where he is sure to find the letter. Placing it upon our bed pains me, but I cannot convince myself that he would see it any other way. If there had been time, perhaps I might have delivered it myself. But no, I cannot allow him to see me like this...Bleeding and broken.





	Letter from the Isolated

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure what to write for my first story, but people elsewhere seem to like my letter series. I'm not too keen on this one, but that's just how it be. 
> 
> \--In which, the apprentice writes a letter to Julian before they're consumed by the plague.

My dear doctor, 

I loved my solitude.  
Many years ago I realised that if I could fall in love with my loneliness, then I would never need another person again. So I fell. It was nice, in honesty. I spiralled and nobody questioned it, because nobody was there Alone, but never lonely. Isolated, but never ignored. What could possibly be better? For a long time I was so content. My routine upheld. Journey to the market, alone. Visit the teahouse, alone. Drink at the tavern, alone. I was in love with my isolation. It never disagreed, never berated me, never gave me the cold shoulder. 

I fell out of love.  
The moment your voice rang through my ears, I thought "Oh no." I recall looking up from an alcohol stained table to see who had disturbed my quiet drink, and there you were. Red hair and redder cheeks, lips freshly wet with whisky, and I thought "God, no." Truthfully, I don't believe in love at first sight, and I don't think that you do either. I think what I felt when I first met you was fear, because I had suddenly found something far more precious than my isolation. God, I can imagine how you might blush at that...I wish I could see it just one more time. 

I fell in love with you.  
It is safe to say that things changed after your drunken pick-up lines. Maybe if you had been a little less funny, a little less shy, I would have simply ignored you. Something about you, even drunk, caught my eye. We talked until the sun rose, and I walked you all the way home. Into bed, even! To this day I know not what possessed me to scribble down my address for you. If I had not, I would have no one to write this letter to, no one to burden with heartbreak. Perhaps that would have been better. 

I did not need you.  
When I waited days with no word, I admit that I felt disappointed. On that day in the market, surrounded by foreign scents and loud chatter, when I turned my head to a frantic "Miss!" I felt something stir. Definitely not need. Forgetting to write down the house number had been my inebriated mistake, and I might have cursed it. Hearing that you had scoured the district for me, though, brought me undeniable pleasure. Remember the evening we spent in the market that afternoon? It is one of my most treasured memories. Please, hold on tight to that memory for me. 

I simply wanted you.  
There were oh so many times that I let you go, against my heart's desires. All because I had vowed to never again need another person. How foolish I was. Did you ever learn how I came to realise that I did not need you? You work long nights, not uncommon for a doctor, but after the plague hit those nights became longer and the absences extended. Had you not refused my continued help in the clinic, it might never have come to a head as it did. That night you had barely slept but three hours in my arms before you awoke again to return to work. I have never felt such anger...Remember how I screamed at you, in the dark hours of the cold morning? It must have been something like "I just want you to stay! Please just stay with me for a single night, it is all I want!" You hurried beneath the sheets so quickly, whispering, "You want me." all the while. My dear, of course I want you. If our love had not ended like this, I could have lived forever and wanted nothing more. 

I realised I had you.  
When you returned gome one evening covered in mud, clothing torn and beaming ear to ear, I did not question it. Your behaviour had been unquestionably erratic lately. Instead, I brewed tea and we drank. You said nothing. When I set you pn the wooden floor beneath my legs to pick the leaves and twigs from amidst that curly red hair, you still said nothing. Onl when I was done, at ease, did you speak. Turned to face me and, on your knees between my thighs, procurred what this whole mess had been about. My favourite bloom; Glowing and blue, and oh so poisonous. Remember what your proposal was like? It started so charming and gallant, yet the longer I remained silent the more crimson your cheeks grew, until you started apologising. Apologising! The truth of it is...I had known myself to be hopelessly in love long ago, and there I finally realised that you were, too. 

I have lost it all.  
Given time, I could recount more. There are so many memories that I adore, so many moments that made my life as vibrant as it was. Whenever I was with you my soul soared, Now, however, it sinks whenever I simply think of your name. The life I am abandoning, the marriage that never was...I can hear him coning. The wooden wheels rolling over the stone cobbles, as they have done every morning for so long now. Despite the troubles that sweep the Kingdom, I have so far felt rather removed from it all. Today he will not collect my body, but by tomorrow it will be time. My eyes burn with crimson tears, and I fear that I have failed to keep this letter free of such evidence. If I were to have a grave I might ask that you visit little, that you move on filled with love and acceptance. However, there will be no grave for me; All that await is flame and dirt. You must forgive me for dying alone. The very moment that I felt this sickness seize my body I craved your arms around me, but I could not ask that of you. When you left, but a month ago, I was so proud. To see you marching away to the palace in hopes of discovering a cure...How could I have drawn you away from that important duty? 

Had I lived...Had this Hell sent plague never touched our lives...I think that I would have liked to call her Isabella. 

Your eternally.


End file.
